


Shower Seductions

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Face-Fucking, M/M, Shower Sex, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to play with Sam in the shower</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower Seductions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tebtosca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and the CW and only Chuck knows who else. I’m not making anything off of this.
> 
> Warnings: Wincest, Season 8 Spoilers from 8.13, face fucking
> 
> A/N: So tebtosca told me I owed her shower fic. I don’t know why I listened to her.
> 
> This was also written for m homebrewbingo card square of “Face-Fucking”
> 
> This brilliant opus and its mistakes are all mine.

Sam hates himself when he wins something by lying, wheedling and taking shameless advantage of people.

Dean has never had that issue. He has crippling guilt about stuff, sure. There is always that person he couldn’t save or that brother he couldn’t keep from doing something horribly stupid and soul destroying. There is that friend who turns and stabs him the back. There is that parent that dies horribly. There is the aforementioned stupid brother also dying horribly. There’s a lot of dying involved, okay?

Thing is: a guy has to have a little fun in life. Sex is so not something to angst over. It’s something to have and be had and have again. Sex is awesome. Dean’s dick would create a nerdy blog about it - if, you know, it had thumbs and could type instead of hanging out in his pants being large and awesome.

So Dean tells a few lies here or there to get some. Everybody does it. Most of his dalliances are one night stands. His lady friends don’t need to know that he’s a drifter who goes around killing evil creatures. Telling them that he is a banker or an artist or an electrician isn’t lying in any sort of meaningful way. It’s not like he’s got some disease that he isn’t disclosing, or he’s married and cheating.

Dean doesn’t cheat. Granted his longest relationship outside of Sam was Lisa, and after her he can easily count the time in days, but whatever. Actually, he isn’t sure that Sam should be counted as a relationship. Like, they’re pretty not normal that way. Sometimes they’re together, and then they’re not.

Of all of the fights they’ve had, not one of them has ever been about their togetherness. Granted the whole Lisa thing was a little weird. A guy doesn’t normally have his partner in togetherness tell him who he should go hookup with. Then again, guys don’t normally have the sort of relationship that Dean has with Sam either. Even incestuous hillbillies don’t have their sort of thing for each other.

Anyway, they don’t fight about their breakups or whatever Sam considers them in his gigantic noggin. Dean personally calls them ‘boob breaks,’ but he thinks that Sam might not like that term. Still, it is kind of the truth. And hey, Dean loves Sam a whole damn lot, but he’d look funny if he had boobs.

All of which is the sort of thing that Dean promises himself he’ll think about the next time that he has a spare minute to brood and think deep thoughts about himself. Not that he ever finds that spare minute, because he has time management skills. Spare minutes are meant for sex. Specifically: shower sex.

Now, Dean has been in many showers over his lifetime of motel living. He has sadly had a lack of sex in said showers. Yes, he does count masturbation as sex. He prefers that his chicken choking not be part of his hygiene routine. Shower jerkers turn into boring, sad men. He read about that on Yahoo! News.

Skin mags and the internet were invented for manual loving. A guy can’t take either of those into the shower with him. Dean rests his case.

Shower sex should be had with a partner. Sadly, most motels are not equipped to handle two men of Winchester proportions. The Men of Letters though? Those bastards built freaking awesome showers.

Clearly they were getting a little friskier than their marble floors and fancy books would lead a guy to believe. Dean knows that they built those showers for something other than just getting clean. In fact, they’re perfect for getting dirty, really dirty. Man does not need that many hand holds and that much space to scrub the suds.

It would be a crime of Dean didn’t seduce his brother into getting in the shower with him. After all, if Sammy wants to be a Man of Letters, he should get the whole experience, right? Not that those stiffs had boyfriends as hot as Dean, but Dean isn’t Sam’s boyfriend. He’s his brother.

Dean doesn’t clue Sam in on his perfectly acceptable logic train. If he told Sam about it, Sam would start fretting over whether or not deadbeat Grandpa Winchester was dueling his salami with another man’s pepperoni. Thinking about grandfathers having sex is a no go for Dean, so he does the admirable thing and dumps his beer down Sam’s shirtfront.

It is sort of embarrassing how Sam falls for it. While he is busy cursing and sputtering and making sure that Dean didn’t damage his precious book, Dean easily herds him to the nearest shower. He has Sam’s pants halfway down his stork-like legs before Sam catches a clue that he is being taken advantage of.

“Really?”

Dean could do without the longsuffering tone, but whatever. Sam never could appreciate it when Dean did things for his own good. “You need to get your rocks off,” he orders.

“I thought I told you that getting ordered around wasn’t my style,” Sam whines.

The chubby he is starting to sport disagrees with him, but Dean doesn’t point that out. Sam’s denial is important to Sam for some reason even though he will preach self-realization any other time. Fucking contrary is what Sam is. If Dean didn’t love him so damn much, he’d hate him. He’s mollified by the fact that the feeling is mutual.

But Dean does love Sam, loves him like pie and breathing. So he ignores Sam’s little whine and mouths him through his underwear. They’ve done it enough times that he knows exactly where Sam likes his dick sucked and how hard. As much as Sam is pretending he isn’t in the mood, his cock is disagreeing within seconds.

When Dean pulls his mouth away, Sam answers with a whimper and a demanding thrust forward with his hips.

“Not until you get in the shower,” Dean tells him.

“I have actually showered, you know,” Sam grumbles even as he shoves his underwear down to join his pants. He isn’t fully hard yet, but Dean isn’t offended. Distracting Sammy from his one true love of books and geekery isn’t the easiest of tasks. He honestly feels sorry for Jess. Poor girl probably got all addicted to Sam and his naturally gifted, Winchester sex ability only to lose it for long stretches of Sam’s studying time.

Or maybe their sex ability comes from their Mom’s side. That would make more sense.

Dean shakes his head as if he can roll the thought right out of his brain. He doesn’t need to be thinking about other people’s sex prowess. He needs to be reminding Sam what a great idea sex is.

“You haven’t been showering right,” Dean tells him as he pushes them both towards the shower. It doesn’t take much for Dean to wriggle out of his clothes. He hadn’t put on his normal layers when he plotted out his great shower seduction, so there isn’t as much to take off.

The knobs of the shower turn easily for mechanical devices that have been left alone for decades. Whatever the special mojo was that they put into the place really worked wonders. Blades didn’t rust and dull. Dust didn’t cover tables. Mold didn’t grow in the grout holding together some pretty swanky bathroom tiling. Not that Dean is an expert on bathroom tiles. He just likes them. If he had his own home, he’d totally redo all the floors in tiles and hardwood.

“Are you going to start in on the porn dialogue now?” Sam teases as he steps obediently under the pounding, hot spray. His unfairly sculpted muscles channel water from his droopy, drippy hair down his chest, over his abdomen straight to that perfect, perfect prize that Dean has been after for what feels like months.

“Uh-huh,” is all Dean can formulate in reply. He’s distracted. It happens. His dick wants to spin Sam around so that he can rub against that cute little behind, but Dean likes to play for the end game. Sam gets funny about going straight for the ass whenever they get ‘back together’ again, like Dean doesn’t really mean it if he was to go straight for the pokey-pokey.

So annoying. Seriously.

Still, it’s been a long time since Dean’s gotten to suck dick. He’s down for it.

The shower head is large enough and has enough pressure behind it that drops are making their way over Sam’s bulk to spray over Dean’s head as he slides down to his knees. The droplets catch on his face and eyelashes as he tilts his head up to wink at his brother. Without another word, he sucks the tip of Sam’s dick into his mouth.

Blowjobs don’t need foreplay. At least, the kind that Dean gives don’t.

Sam’s long fingers start carding through his hair a second later. He starts panting and moaning the second after that. After three seconds, his hips start twitching as he fights against the desire to fuck.

Dean curls his fingers around his brother’s hips and gives a bit of a tug. Suckling hard at the crown of Sam’s cock before relaxing his throat and swallowing, he makes certain that his gaze tilt coquettishly upwards through his lashes.

“Too fucking pretty, God,” Sam whines as he starts thrusting in and out of Dean’s mouth.

He’s such a sucker for it. Every damn time that Dean gives him head, he falls for the through the lashes gaze. Sam’s had epically bad head from his other partners is all Dean can say. He’s good, but he isn’t that good. He isn’t that pretty either, but he’s learned not to argue with Sam about the second one.

“Dean, can I?” Sam whispers, one palm coming down to stroke at Dean’s cheek.

It is a stupid question, but one that Sam always asks anyway. In response, Dean lunges forward, swallowing as much of Sam’s dick as he can in one go.

“Baby,” Sam whimpers as he starts thrusting with a little more force, his dick sliding just a little down Dean’s throat before pulling back again. Dean’s lips are starting to get sensitive from the friction, but he only sucks harder. The endearment is ignored by both of them. Sam never says it when they aren’t fucking, so Dean never makes himself think about it.

Instead he thinks about how heavy Sam feels on his tongue. He focuses on the flavor of him as he swallows down the precome Sam is trickling into his mouth. He concentrates on wrapping his hand around his cock to tug at the hardness jutting between his legs, and then he concentrates on not biting down as his body reports in about how good that feels.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees as if Dean has actually spoken aloud, as if he could with Sam’s big dick shoved in his mouth.

Sam’s hips start snapping. Sharp, tight jabs as he works himself on the inside of Dean’s mouth. His hands are still cradling Dean’s head, one on his face, one on the back of his head, but he doesn’t guide the angle so much as pet at Dean while he takes what he wants.

“God,” Sam whines as he starts to come, tangy bursts of pleasure coating Dean’s gullet. He has never gotten over swearing like that when he comes. Sometimes, at the worst possible moment, Dean will wonder if Cas hears that sort of thing and gets creeped out by humans yelling it in bed.

Ignoring the path that his wayward brain wants to go down, Dean focuses on swallowing Sam’s spunk as he comes, massaging the last bits out of the already softening cock. He chasing after it when Sam pulls out, and embarrassingly needy noise coming from his throat when he is deprived of his toy.

Then Sam is dragging him to his feet, knocking away his hand from his cock and jerking Dean through the last steps to his own climax. The spunk that he ends up spraying onto Sam’s skin is quickly rinsed away by the warm water of the shower. Dean doesn’t feel bad about that though. He doesn’t need to mark Sam’s skin because he’s already under it.


End file.
